


The secret blog of Dr. John H. Watson

by Tipofmytongue



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, John Watson's Blog, M/M, POV Mary Morstan, Phone Sex, Sex, Texting, Very Secret Diary
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 17:19:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5879239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tipofmytongue/pseuds/Tipofmytongue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mary stumbles upon John's blog site and notices that he has a section of blog entries that have never been published, labelled "John's diary". She can't help herself and starts to read it, and what she discovers is much more than she can possibly bear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The secret blog of Dr. John H. Watson

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! The second and final chapter will come soon.   
> English is not my mother language, and I haven't had time to read the story through, so there might be some type-o's.

Mary looked at her watch. Five past eleven. John hadn’t said anything about pulling an all-nighter, and after him having been gone for the past two nights, Mary was getting very tired. Alma was in a really bad period and woke up a lot during the nights, and Mary was doing the heavy lifting. In fact, all the lifting now that John was out on yet another case with Sherlock.

She went into the kitchen and opened a bottle of red wine, praying that Alma would stay asleep for at least a couple of hours. After she’d poured the glass, she sat down on the computer to check up on the virtual world. When the screen lit up she saw that John hadn’t closed the page where he posted his blog entries. There they all were. Evidence of John’s need for adrenaline and danger. Mary hadn’t actually read all the blog entries, so she scrolled back to the blog entry from 29th of January 2010 – the post “A Strange Meeting” which was about meeting Sherlock for the first time. In the comments in the next entry he was already accused of being gay, which bugged Mary a little. She wondered how many people who actually believed that rubbish.

As she scrolled further up she noticed that there was a hidden folder on the left called “John’s diary”. It was set to be inactive and not published. Mary felt she was stepping over the line, but still she found herself opening the folder. There she saw several blog posts that hadn’t been published, obviously only made for John’s eyes to see. She clicked on the first entry, dated 16th of June, the year Sherlock died.

 

**June 16 th. **

_I made this secret blog because I can’t stand to read all the nasty comments. And there are so many things I can’t write to the public. This is for me.  
Sherlock’s dead. He jumped. He really jumped. Even Sherlock cannot fake that. It’s over. _

_My therapist has asked me to keep on writing. She asked me a question the other day. She asked me to say out loud all the things I wanted to say but hadn’t said. I couldn’t tell her. Fuck, I can barely tell myself._

_Sherlock was the most brilliant human being I’ve ever met. Being his friend was a privilege, really, because I was the only one. I think. Maybe Lestrade and Molly too. Who knows._

_Well, he was my one and only he too. I felt it from the day that I shot the cabbie. I knew that it was my purpose to protect Sherlock from harm. Because that’s what you do when you are in love with someone. You protect them. I couldn’t protect him from Moriarty. I couldn’t protect him from society. I did protect him from me, by never revealing my feelings. He wouldn’t have been able to cope with that. He isn’t like that. He told me on our first case that girl’s aren’t really his area. … Oh. Fuck. Maybe he meant… Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

_I don’t know how I’m going to get back from this. This isn’t something I can talk to anyone about. My denial is all I have left, and if I come out with this I way never recover. Not when he’s gone forever. Because I failed to protect him._

**November 23 rd.**

_This summer was the worst of my life. I didn’t go out of bed for the first three weeks and Mrs. Hudson had to force me to eat. Thank god for her. I’ve vacated Baker Street. There’s just too many memories. I’d been sleeping in Sherlock’s bed just to feel the smell of him, but when the smell was gone I knew it was time to leave. I’ve changed my cologne. I’ve taken his with me. I know those are classical signs of self-destructive behaviour, but the knowledge of never smelling him again, fresh out of the showers, parading around in sheets or underpants only, it’s impossible to bear. All the time, and I mean all the time, my heart aches as if it’s been pierced by burning arrows. (Sherlock would have laughed his ass off by this metaphor) Every time I see a man with dark curls my stomach does a somersault. But I know it’s not him. I dream of touching him. Of seeing him. Smelling him. Holding him. Kissing him. Making love to him. I’ve never done that with a bloke. But Sherlock… god damn._

**May 18 th. **

_I haven’t written anything since last time, and I sure as hell can’t find any motivation to write at all. My life’s on complete stand-still. All I can think about still is Sherlock. He’s everywhere. I picture when I wank in the shower, I hear his violin when I’m walking down the pavement, I see his face whenever I close my eyes at night. Is there such a thing as getting over someone? I’m starting to believe in the idea of The One. He’s been dead for almost a year now, and still I crave him everyday. I miss him everyday. I love him everyday. Why does something have to disappear before you appreciate it fully? You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone._

_I wish I hadn’t left my SIG at Baker Street._

**August 2 nd. **

_I met a lovely woman a couple of nights ago. After yet a dreadful summer I felt cheerful for the first time in over a year. All thanks to her. Mary. She’s got blonde, short hair and a really beautiful smile. Sherlock would’ve liked her. She’s got substance. I know a lot of my other girlfriends didn’t have much of that. Sherlock was so right about everything, even my love life. But he would have liked Mary. She’s really funny and very charming. She’s got balls. Not literally. I don’t think I could’ve liked that with anyone but Sherlock._

_Anyway, Mary actually made me laugh for the first time in a long, long time. I suspect she has some baggage, but we all do, don’t we? I do at least, and his name is Sherlock Holmes._

_God, stop John. Stop writing about him. I think I’ll just stop writing. It’s for the best. I need to forget him. Move on with my life. This is my note to you, Sherlock: I will always love you, but I need to keep on living._

At this, Mary stopped reading. She was in shock. The last blog entry had been really lovely. She knew she’d saved John somehow, but she’d never grasped the reality of it until now. He had actually been in love with Sherlock. Maybe he still was. She emptied the glass of red wine in one go and filled it up again. Her watch told her it was past midnight. That meant John wouldn’t be home tonight either. She didn’t want to read any further, but somehow she couldn’t stop herself.

 

**November 7 th. **

_I’m so happy I could die!!! At least now that the shock’s worn off. I can’t fucking believe it!!! He’s alive! He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive!!! Jiqjfwpjfpqkf2pjf22e190ru1ped2!!!!_

_Christ. I just. I can’t believe it. I’m bubbling inside. It’s just not something I can let show._

_I saw Mrs. Hudson the other day. She was really angry with me and for good reason. When I told her that I’d met Mary she didn’t believe me, because she thought I was gay. I just couldn’t tell her the truth. That would fuck everything up. All that pot she’s smoking I wouldn’t trust her with a secret like that. I love her so much though._

_But what I did was really stupid. Or. Not stupid per se, but Sherlock turned up ten minutes too late. Had I known he was alive I would never have proposed to Mary. And even though he did interrupt the actual proposal when he turned up as that stupid French waiter (he so deserved those punches!) Mary knew were I was heading, and I couldn’t just back off. So now I’m engaged and Sherlock’s alive. Mary is amazing. I’m not saying anything else. And I do love her. I just think things could’ve been different this time. Sherlock seems different. As if he’s let his guard down a bit. I’m going to ask him to be my best man for the wedding._

**June 3 rd.  **

_Happily Ever After. That case was so tough with Mary being in on it. Sabrina who turned out to be married to a man she didn’t love because she was gay and afraid that her family would disown her. Sherlock had deduced all that just by seeing the way Sabrina had been looking at Mary. He’s so brilliant. I saw my entire future flash before my eyes. But she was brave. Sherlock was brave. Thanks to him she ended the marriage and told her family anything. And they accepted her. She was really brave. I don’t know how to be that brave. I must say, though, that it’s usually okay to be around Sherlock, but during this case it was hard. One moment, when him and I were examining Sabrina’s bedroom, I swear he flirted with me. We were standing on the same side of the bed, he was bent over with his magnifier and I was standing behind him. Then he said “In this position we would be much better off without clothes”. I swear, my cock grew fifty inches at those words. Then he turned around and winked at me and then the whole moment was gone because Mary came up the stairs. I hurried into the bathroom and washed my face and stood there for five minutes thinking about maggots so that my hard-on would disappear. When exited Sherlock gave me a very strange smile behind Mary’s back._

_I don’t know what that means. It’s like I don’t even dare to go there in my mind. Not even on here. And my wedding is two months from now so, yeah, what can I do?_

**August 8 th. **

_My stag night. Mary had asked why I hadn’t invited Mike and Greg to come along, but I wanted it to be just me and Sherlock. I’m not going to write about everything, because we still have wedding stuff up our ears before the big day, but in case I grow senile and forget things I need to write a bit. After the bar hopping (we even went to a gay bar and Sherlock was dancing, he was so beautiful on the dance floor (that is until he crashed into a half-naked dude who started flirting with him and I got jealous and punched the guy, so we ran for it)) we went home to Baker Street and played a game of Who Am I?. (We fell asleep in the stairs first and it was so nice just lying there next to each other). Anyway, at some point during the game, I can’t remember when precisely because I was really slushed, I slipped down from my chair and put my hand on Sherlock’s knee. And I swear to God I saw he was hard. Despite all the drinking. We looked at each other and to this very day I hate that stupid woman for barging in at that point. She was a client who needed help. And yeah yeah yeah, well, whatever. So we got arrested because Sherlock puked all over some guy’s apartment. Or something. I really didn’t care. If she hadn’t come in I know, deep in my heart, that we would have kissed, Sherlock and I. I just know it._

**August 11 th. **

_Wedding. Yey. I’m married. And apparently and expectant father. That’s really amazing. Mary and I are thrilled. She was really beautiful in our wedding, and despite the attempted murder on Sholto, it was a lovely day. I was really happy. Almost completely happy. Sherlock held a best man’s speech which… well, let’s just say it blew my mind. I understood something at that point. I think. I think. That he loves me too. He practically married me right then and there with vows and words so grand that you would have to be Anderson in order to miss the subtext of it. And it wasn’t even subtext. He said it flat out. That he loves me. Disguised as best-friend-love. It’s too late for us. I’m with Mary. I’m going to be a father. She’s going to be a mother. I’m crying as I’m writing this, because I’m really happy with Mary and our little walnut that’s inside of her, but… Hell… Fucking hell._

**January 22 nd. **

_I’m back with Mary now. I can’t abandon my unborn child._

_I have nothing to say. Not even to myself._

**February 27 th.**

_I’m a father!!!_

**July 10 th. **

_Being away from Sherlock again is really hard. I’m so completely beaten down. It’s weird. But I love Alma. I need to be there for her. But things are hard with Mary. There’s no sex, no affection, no conversation about things that aren’t diapers, shit, milk and baby oil._

_I keep thinking about Sherlock. I can’t let it go. I’ve tried. God knows I’ve tried. I just don’t know how to cope. I wanked to his deer-stalker photo the other day. It’s so hot._

**August 14 th. **

_Last night I did something I’d call quite embarrassing, but I needed to disappear into a fantasy world, just for some time. I went to Harmony on Oxford Street and bought – shit, I hate the word dildo – yeah, that, and some oil. Mary was having a sleep over at Janine’s with the baby. (Janine still doesn’t know it was Mary who hit her back in Magnussen’s office). I had the house to myself. So I found the deer stalker picture of Sherlock on The Sun and downloaded it to my phone. Then I went into the guest bedroom to have the biggest solo sex adventure of my life. When I put the dildo in it felt so amazing. I pictured it was Sherlock fucking me, making love to me, and when it hit my prostate I screamed out in pleasure. Seriously. I’ve never had anal sex before, and it’s so much better than regular sex. Oh god. It was the best thing I’ve ever felt. It was like having Sherlock there with me. And then he texted! Really. Here’s the conversation, I had to delete it from my phone, but I had to keep it somewhere._

SH: What are you doing?

JH: I don’t think you want to know.

SH: Believe me, I do.

JH: How come?

SH: I know where you went shopping today.

JH: Oh. Alright. Well. I’m doing that.

SH: Doing what exactly?

JH: Are you sure you want to know?

SH: Positive. I need inspiration.

JH: Inspiration?

SH: I’m in bed, but I’m not tired.

SH: So you need to tell me what you’re doing.

JH: I’m also in bed. I’m fucking myself with an item.

SH: Really? What kind of item?

JH: A dildo.

SH: I didn’t think you liked that sort of thing.

SH: You know, sex between two males is a fantastic thing. We know exactly how to please one another. What works and what does not.

JH: So you’re experienced in that area?

SH: Yes. A bit. But these days it’s limited to fantasies.

JH: What kind of fantasies?

SH: Fantasies that involve you. Strapped to my bed. Me on top. Licking you everywhere. All over your body.

JH: God.

SH: Was I out of line?

JH: No, keep going, please!!!!!!!!!

SH: :-)

SH: I lick you at your entrance. It’s so delicious. You scream in pleasure and as you do I grab your penis and trail my fingers down your shaft.

JH: Goooood!!!!

SH: I keep going until your body is shivering, until you are practically begging for mercy.

JH: Ys,,, yes, god! What arre you doong now?

SH: I am fingering myself. Typing is getting difficult.

JH: Yeess it is

_And then he called me. I picked it up and heard his low, animalistic voice on the other end. I can’t recall the conversation completely, but it went something like this:  
S: I wish you were here. _

_J: Me too. What would you do?_

_S: I would bite gently at your nipples and at the same time I would insert my penis into your body, penetrate you, claim you, and feel how your sphincter slowly accepted my presence. Then I would start moving back and forth until I hit your prostate. Are you fucking yourself now?_

_J: Yes… I picture that it’s you doing it.  
S: Good. I would to things to you, John Watson, that would please you in ways you can’t imagine. I would keep on fucking you until you reached orgasm. _

_J: Yes, yes, yes, I’m so close, Sherlock! Please, please!!_

_S: I’m close too. I’m inside you. I’m inside your arse. You are so wet and delicious._

_J: YES, god god god!!_

_Then there were mostly moaning and grunting until we both came at almost the same time._

_In the after-sex we were still on the phone together and I told him that I love him._

_I knew from the sound of his voice that this was it. He told me that this couldn’t happen again and that I needed to respect Mary enough to make a choice. Then he hung up.  
I just needed to write all this down so that I have the memories. I don’t know what to do. _

Mary stopped reading. There were no more blog entries in John’s secret diary blog. She felt sick. She knew that their marriage hadn’t been the same since the little shooting-incident, but she had no idea they were so far gone. As a tear rolled down her cheek, she finished her glass of red wine again and decided to do something about it. John wasn’t going to slip away from her. She wondered what he was doing. And just ass she thought so she heard the front door open and two pairs of feet ascended the stairs to the living room. Why the hell had John brought Sherlock with him? She quickly closed the laptop and tried her wet cheeks, just in time before John and Sherlock entered.

“Mary, you’re up!” John said puzzled. “Alma woke you?”   
“No, she’s slept all this time. I just felt like having a drink. Hi Sherlock.”  
“Hello Mary.” Sherlock answered friendly.   
“What are you both doing here?”  
“Sherlock had been an idiot.” John said and poked Sherlock mockingly in his side. Sherlock tried to escape John’s finger and danced graciously away from it.   
“Not stupid. I just had a little experiment gone wrong. The rooms in Baker Street are… uhm… a bit poisoned for the time being. I wondered if I could stay here?”

“If you don’t mind being woken at five by a sulking kid that’s okay.” Mary said. “You can take the guest room; it should be all set for you.” She looked at John. John moved a bit and said that he needed to clean some stuff up in there and he was off, leaving Mary alone with Sherlock.

“So, how are you, Mary?” Sherlock asked politely.

“I’m good, really good. Although Alma must’ve inherited her father’s love for staying up all night.”

“White noise should do it. If she won’t sleep.” Sherlock replied dully and helped himself to a glass of red wine. He could be too rude sometimes, Mary thought. John came back smiling.

“All set in there, if you want to go straight to bed.”

Mary looked between them and saw how her husband’s cheeks flushed at the mentioning of a bed.

“Thank you, John. I think I will. I’m quite tired. Thank you for your accommodation.” Sherlock said and gave Mary a quick kiss on the chin. To John he barely smiled before he was off in the direction of the guest bedroom. As they heard the door close, Mary took a large sip of red wine before she addressed John. She knew this could be the nail in the coffin for them. Or their salvation.

“John. I wanted to ask you something.”

“Oh yeah?”

“There’s something I’ve wanted to.. uhm… try. If you wouldn’t mind.”

“Try?”

“I’ve always wanted to try anal sex. Topping.”

“Huh? Really? How would that be possible?”

“Strap-on or dildo or something? It’s just something I’ve wanted to try. I understand if you wouldn’t be up for it.” She said, knowing just how well he was up for it. She saw him blush, not being quite able to look at her.

“Well… I guess we could… try. If that’s something you want. I’m not into anything in the gay area but, hey, I could try that for you.”  
Mary wrinkled her nose to the obvious lie she was being served, but knew better than to react. Instead she smiled and told John that she would purchase an item the next day.

 

The next day, however, Alma was crying non-stop, and Mary didn’t make it to any shop. She had been up with Alma since 5.30 and was really tired. John had helped her as much as he could before he’d went to the clinic, and Sherlock hadn’t shown himself at all that morning. When the clock turned twelve, he emerged from the guest room to find Mary pacing around in the living room with Alma crying in her arms.

“She won’t stop. I swear, I’m going mad. There hot water in the kettle, by the way, and John’s left for work.”

Mary had to use every cell in her brain to keep her from crying.

“Why don’t I take Alma for the day?” Sherlock said and moved closer to Mary.

“What?!”

“You looked really exhausted. Really, really exhausted. I would be happy to help you out. Why don’t you treat yourself with a night at an hotel? Take my card.”

Mary couldn’t hold it in any longer. She let out all the frustration that had been boiling up in her since she’d read the blog.

“Oh, you want me out do you? So that you can have your way with John, is that it?!”

Sherlock didn’t reply at first, because Alma started crying even harder. Mary had lost control completely and sobbed and sobbed while she tried to comfort her daughter.

“Mary, here, let me, please sit down.” Sherlock said and gently lifted Alma out of Mary’s trembling arms. She sat down in the sofa while Sherlock exited the room with Alma to give Mary some space. After about half an hour Sherlock re-emerged without Alma.   
“She’s asleep in her bed. I think the reason she’s been crying so much is that her neck is a bit interlocked. So I fixed it I think. At least she stopped crying.”

Mary looked up at Sherlock who stood there with a gentle look upon his face.

“Oh.” Is all she managed to say.   
“You know.” Sherlock replied, obviously having deduced whatever he could from her actions.

“John has it all typed on his blog. A secret diary.”

“Not so secret anymore, is it?”

“Nope…”  
Sherlock sat down next to Mary.

“I really like you, you know.” Sherlock said. “That’s why I actually care. That’s why I can’t do this thing. That’s why I shot Magnussen.”

 

They were both silent for a while. Then Mary spoke.

 

“Did you two have sex when he took care of you after….. ?”

“No. We kissed once. But I blamed it on the morphine. I’m sorry.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Nothing happened after that.”  
“He loves you so much, Sherlock. I can’t compete with that.”  
“Well, he’s still married to you. You have a child together. It matters. You matter.”

“You should see his diary, it’s so… vivid.”

“I’ve read it all before.”

“Of course you have. Do you love him too?”

Sherlock sighed and paused before he answered. Mary noticed his eyes was tearing up.

“Yes. Yes, I love him."

 

 

 

 


End file.
